Hume stood a moment; then felt wildly for a hole, struggled through, and as he fell free of the wall he heard the spluttering of the powder. The next instant he was hurled aside, and in his ears there roared the heavy blast of the explosion, coupled with the hollow rumble of falling stones, while the floor beneath him shook and trembled to the shock. He remained for a time on his face motionless, almost stunned by the noise of the explosion and by the force with which he was flung aside. Then, as his senses returned, he heard a murmur of voices as though afar off—then more clearly a man speaking:
“By the saints! that is well done. They have had decent burial, Captain.”
“Ay, too good; now we can get to work at our ease. But what a dust! First let it settle; it chokes me.”
Hume rallied his senses, and softly rolled over, feeling for his rifle, which he had dropped. Then he put his hand to his eyes, to feel that the bandage had been torn away by the rush, of air. With his fingers he pushed back the lids, which by long pressure remained as though gummed down. With his eyes blinking at the falling dust, he sat in hopeless darkness; then a sharp cry escaped his lips, for it seemed to him that the darkness was not so black. He shut his eyes tightly, then opened them wide, and before him there was a yellow blur. A brilliant spark flashed through it; then it changed to a deep violet, and from his trembling lips there leapt a cry, for he saw the looming dark walls, and above caught the sparkle of innumerable stars.
“I can see!” he cried. “My God! I can see!”
“Hark! It is one of them crying out.”
“It was a fearful voice,” whispered Gobo. “The men say this place is possessed.”
Hume saw the sheen of something bright, and, with his heart beating, softly drew his rifle to him. He shut his eyes, and opened them with a joy he could scarce restrain; then, gently cocking the hammer, he rose to his feet.
“Curse this dust!” growled the Captain; “one can neither see nor hear. But we cannot remain here like a lot of children frightened by a sound. Come.”
“Stop!” shouted Hume sternly. “I can see you—ay, I can see you well; and if a man moves I will shoot him.”